Never Let Me Fall
by Niarisu
Summary: When Winry and his brother die in a blaze, Edward Elric is left alone. The only thing stopping him from committing suicide are his brother's last words. Oneshot, AU, kind of RoyEd


**A/N: **This was originally meant to be a RoyEd fic, but I have a feeling it didn't turn out like it should have. :shrugs: This was my first try at anything remotely like this. Hope you enjoy!

**Disclaimer: **Don't own FMA.

* * *

The fire had started in the kitchen. Nine other houses burned down that night. Out of the ten blazes, only three survived… 

Winry woke coughing. As she reached for her glass of water on her bedside drawer, she felt that something was wrong. She sat up and opened her eyes -- and screamed. Fire filled the room, causing their previously snug bedroom to turn into a blazing inferno. Her scream had woken her husband. Al was more levelheaded and grabbed Winry by the hand and lead her out the door. The smoke was just as thick. Suddenly, part of the roof caved in and trapped the two. They had run out of options…

Four years ago, Al had regained his body with the help of a philosopher's stone. It was wonderful to be able to feel, taste, smell, and sleep after five years of being trapped in armour. He had married Winry, and the two of them had led happy lives. Ed lived alone in a small apartment nearby, often buried in his work at the military. Al and Winry lived in a small, two bedroom flat. The two would invite Ed over frequently, when he was at home. A cruel twist of fate perhaps, but the day of the blaze, Ed had been staying at Al and Winry's for the night. He had been woken, like Winry, by the smoke, and had reacted quickly. He had run out, coughing, looking for Al and Winry, and calling their names. When he saw them, he tried to run over, but it was then that the roof had caved in. It pinned him down knocking him flat on his stomach. His right arm felt crushed. "AL! WINRY!" The two turned at the sound of their names, but neither of them could do anything. All Ed could do was watch helpless, as his brother and his best friend were slowly burned to death. "Live for us, nii-san…" Ed heard his brother's last words, almost a whisper. "NOOO!" He tried one more time to reach his brother, but his efforts were fruitless. His only reward for his exertions was blinding pain shooting up his right arm that sent him spiraling into unconsciousness.

When rescuers finally arrived at the blaze, it had been too late for Al and Winry. Ed was found trapped under a large piece of tiling and wooden beams with burns to much of his body. It was a miracle, they said, that his spine hadn't broken or snapped from the weight. When they brought him out, he was unconscious -- but alive. He would later find out that of the fourty or so victims of a single arsonist that night, apart from him, only two young children who had snuck out of their rooms to play in the bathtub had survived.

For Ed, it was as if he were in the depths of hell. Every day and night as he lay in the hospital recovering, he could only think that if he had reacted faster, perhaps Al and Winry would still be alive. Frankly, he had no will to go on living, but every time he thought of death, he thought of Al's last words. _"Live for us, nii-san."_ So all he could do was lie here, and wait as the slow process of recovery took place.

Three weeks later, Ed was discharged from the hospital. The hospital staff had deemed him fit to leave and except for a still healing arm, fully recovered. His arm had been mostly crushed and many of the bones had been shattered. The rebuilding of the bones had been a long and slow process, and there was always the chance that a small tremor could shake apart the careful work. But all procedures had gone smoothly and there was every chance that his arm would be fully functional before long.

Now, for Ed, the military was the only thing he had left, and he turned towards it with a vigour. He no longer cared about being called a dog of the military; the military, his work, was the only thing that provided him relief from his own mind. In essence, he had no life apart from the military. It was in the military he found his friends, and more importantly, it became his family. When he had been in the hospital, Hawkeye, Mustang, Havoc, Fuery, Breda, and Falman often came to visit him. When he had been discharged, it was Hawkeye who had picked him up. At Mustang's insistence, he had moved to a room in the military dorms, so he could have an eye kept on him. It turned out to be a good idea as well, for when Ed discovered that the arsonist who had set ablaze Central that night had been arrested, it was all anyone could do to keep him from charging to the prison and most likely killing the man.

Ed sighed as he thought back on the past two months. Despite everyone's best efforts, he felt desperately alone. He had no wish to go on living by himself, he wanted his brother. For him, it was a living hell. The only thing that kept him going was his desire to honour his brother's last words. The others needn't have worried about him committing suicide. Ed had sneaking suspicions that the reason why all his missions lately had been in and around Central was so that he would return to sleep in his military dorm every night, and they would know if he hadn't returned. Before the incident, he would probably have slept in a hotel one night just to see the expression on the Brigadier General's face when he showed up safely the next morning. But now, he just couldn't care. Today would be just another day, the same as any other.

Ed dressed slowly. He no longer wore his red jacket over black clothes. Instead, he simply wore the standard military blue. He ate a quick breakfast and began his daily walk around Central compound before walking up to the office. He pushed the door open and plopped down on the couch. "I'm here." The others greeted him good morning. Ed sighed and walked over to Mustang's desk to retrieve his day's work. Lately, he had started to receive more paperwork, and today was another paperwork day. He sat down and began working silently. Mustang followed him with his eyes, a strange expression on his face. It was one that was a mixture of pity and concern for the younger man. Had Ed noticed, he would have been at the least, surprised, for there was a touch of longing there too.

Evening fell fast. Mustang looked at his watch and stood up and stretched. Suddenly, the calm was shattered by the sound of a bullet passing dangerously close to the man's head. "I believe you still have," Hawkeye walked over and flipped through the piles of paper, "twenty more to finish tonight." Mustang sighed and sat back down. One by one, his subordinates left the room until only Ed, Hawkeye, and Mustang were left. It had been like this often. For Ed, the long nights alone were perhaps the worst times of all, and he made every effort to do his work as slowly as possible in an attempt to make the nights shorter. Normally, Hawkeye and Mustang would let him alone, but tonight, Mustang felt like this had gone on for long enough. He put his pen down. "Go home, Fullmetal. You finished three hours ago." Unable to argue, Ed stood up and left.

In his room, unable to sleep, he sat at his desk writing. "Phosphorous…lime…" The components of the human body slowly came into writing. Under the list, Ed slowly scratched out more figures. "Carbon…Water…" The components of a burnt human body. Ed sighed and was about to give sleep another go when he heard a knock at his door. "Coming…" Ed muttered. Who could it be at this hour? he wondered. He opened the door to find himself facing Roy Mustang. "Wha--?" Ed was surprised and he had every right to be.

Mustang let himself in to the room. "We need to talk Fullmetal." Ed was flustered.

"What the hell are you doing here, Colonel?" he finally managed to splutter.

Mustang scowled. Despite his promotion to Brigadier General, Fullmetal still called him Colonel. It irritated him, but today, he let it pass. Instead, he groped for words and tried to decide how to best begin the conversation. "To check on you, why else? Lately, you've been acting like a stray dog who lost his bone. I trust the reasons go deeper than that though?" he said as he quirked an eyebrow.

Ed was blunt. "None of your business, bastard," he grumbled.

Mustang sighed and tried a more direct approach. "Look, Ed," the use of his name surprised him, "I know the loss of Alphonse and Winry has hit you hard, but do you really think your brother would want to see you like this?"

Ed said nothing and looked down at his hands. His brother would probably have beat some sense into him. But his brother wasn't here, he wasn't alive, and if _he_ had been faster, perhaps things would have been different. Ed remained silent.

Mustang sighed again. He was genuinely concerned for the younger man. And lately, he hadn't quite been able to shake off some of his feelings for him. Feelings that ran deeper than a superior-subordinate relation, or even a father-son one. He too, stayed silent, as he waited for the subject of his musings to respond. When Ed didn't, he prodded again. "Edward, I'd rather you tell me _yourself_ what you honestly feel before I get to force it out of you. We all feel deeply for your loss, and contrary to perhaps your belief, we care for you. We miss Alphonse as well, might I remind you? And if I remember him correctly, your brother would _not_ have liked to see you moping about."

"Shut _up!_" Ed slammed his automail fist down on the table and glared daggers at the older man. "What do you know about Al? He was the sweetest, kindest, most innocent person anyone could have known. Why did he have to die? Why was it him? He didn't deserve it in any way…" Ed broke down in hiccuping sobs. It was the first time he had cried since that time two months ago.

Mustang felt guilty. It had been his words that had pushed Ed over the edge. Suddenly, he surprised himself, and Ed, when he pulled him over, and held him. Mustang spoke softly into his ear. "It's alright to cry sometimes, Edward. Sometimes, it's okay to say what you feel. It's alright to let yourself go. I'm right here with you." Mustang slowly stroked Ed's hair as the boy's breathing calmed, and his hiccups became less frequent.

Ed let himself relax. He felt safe in Roy's warm embrace. He felt safer than he had been since his mother's death. Something told him that it was alright to stay in his arms, that he was allowed to let himself be comforted. As he burrowed into the older man's chest, he decided he wasn't alone after all. There still was someone to pull him out of hell.

_When you were in hell,  
It was I who built stairs for you.  
When you were in hell,  
It was I who reached out a hand for you  
When you were in hell,  
It was as if I was there in hell with you.  
When you were in hell,  
It was I who pulled you out.  
But now we are again together  
And it is as if,  
We were in heaven._

-Love from Hell, Anon.

* * *

Well, I hope you enjoyed it. If you're looking for something to read, I'd love it if you read my other fic **Teachings of Pain**, and feel free to drop a review! 


End file.
